Wylis turned around and walked back to the pavilion. He grabbed his tunic and wore it, then the vest. He avoided looking at Rhaella. The woman he hadn't yet seen even raise her voice once was going to be…
"Something troubles you, Ser Wylis?"
Wylis heaved a deep breath and looked at Rhaella's serene face. "Ser Jaime… informed that His Grace burned someone in the court today."
Once again, all hope of a smile is lost.
He saw her gentle, calm face turn sullen in an instant. Her bright eyes turn hazy, lost, and depressed. Fear, while not visible, was in her eyes. She knew what was coming for her that night.
"I…" Rhaella stood up. "I wish to retire to my bedchambers, Ser Wylis."
He followed her, seeing how weak she looked at that moment. So vulnerable and hopeless. No more of those prideful strides, a high head, and a straight back. He wanted to embrace her right there, but that would be treason if seen.
He just followed her back into Maegor's Holdfast and then to the royal apartments. But as Rhaella pushed open the doors, she looked back at Wylis, her eyes somewhat watery.
"Please… What's to come is not for your ears, nor your honor. Flee this place before it takes you too. There is only madness here… and I would not have it touch you too."
With that, she entered her room and closed the door on Wylis. She didn't lock it from inside; she wasn't allowed to, nor was there a lock inside.
Wylis, still on duty, stood in front of that closed door, his mind empty, his fists clenched hard. The rain resumed again soon, heavy, as if the sky was weeping. And as time went by, it started to grow dark. The servants walked past him, eyeing him with pity as they lit the torches on the walls.
And finally, he heard the heavy clanking of armor. He looked, and sure enough, it was the Mad King, looking even madder than usual, excited, aroused even, after burning a man that day. Vile, long beard and hair, long nails, eyes as red as violet.
"Ahhh… there you are. My towering jewel, my lovely slab of steel and silence—Ser Wylis. I heard that my young son has taken a liking to you, calls you his steed. How… fitting. You know your station—such loyalty must be rewarded. Now, be a good champion and open those doors. The king has matters… tender matters… for his queen."
Wylis felt like grabbing the King's head and crushing it into a paste. He could do it with ease. But killing the man would make Rhaegar the King. And that would likely stop the rebellion from happening. Lyanna would never be safe then, nor would he find peace.
Clack!
Ignoring Wylis, the King opened the doors himself and vanished inside the bedchamber. The two Kingsguards who had accompanied the King, Ser Jonothor Darry and Ser Oswell Whent, closed the doors with steely faces and stood on each side of the doorframe.
Wylis stood between them.
The two men didn't speak. Even their breaths weren't audible. They stood as if frozen in place.
So did Wylis.
Although nothing was audible. No cries, no screams, no maddened laughters. But it was impossible not to think about it.
Just a night before, he declared he would have battled and burned Westeros for a woman like her. And now he stood there while the King was inside.
Just once… Say it just once, Rhaella.
####
When morning came, Wylis got up like a repeating machine, dressed up, and went to stand guard in front of Rhaella's bedchamber. He'd dug more the previous night after the entire ordeal. He dug plenty, already breaching all the way through the Black Cells, and then into the deepest level, the torture chambers. He hid his tunnel well, so that it was impossible to find unless one knew where to knock.
From there, he dug westward, pushing the earth forward before him, compressing the dirt more and more. The more he used Earthbending, the better he got at it. The better he understood how to manipulate the earth. What needed to be dug and what needed to be ripped apart?
Sadly, he'd found a massive boulder in his way and had to stop there. He needed to cut a hole through that boulder, and it was harder than just compressing earth. He needed to actually crush a path and deal with the debris.
Just one more night.
"Ser Wylis."
The four maids were now five, a Septa had joined them this time. He unlocked the doors and let the five women enter. He imagined what they did inside—helping the Queen bathe, wipe her body, wash her hair, care for every part of her body, and then the Septa… healed.
Three hours later, the five women came out, but the Queen didn't follow.
"Her Grace?" He asked them.
The Septa looked at him once and shook her head. "She will be resting today, Ser.'
I-Is she that hurt? But there was no noise.
Nonetheless, he stood outside her bedchamber from morning till evening. The maids came occasionally, bringing food for the Queen. At night, the Septa visited again, and after that, Wylis locked the doors for good. He ate supper and then returned to his small room.
Pang! Pang!
This time, he knocked on the pipes, hoping for a response from above. He didn't send a parchment, worried that she might not collect it, and the maids would find it in the morning.
Pang! Pang!
He knocked a few more times and waited. But when no reply came, he focused back on digging. That night, he dug through that big boulder and reached all the way west of Maegor's Holdfast, right underneath the Godswood, noticeable thanks to so many roots around him.
From there, he dug further west, to cross two massive walls and reach the outside, not far from the Eel Alley, where Qyburn was settled. The plan was to leave King's Landing as quickly as possible.
But it was an impossible task to do all that in one night. After reaching the Godswood, he returned to his room and slept.
####
Winterfell,
"Where is Lyanna?" Rickard bellowed, his face red with fury. "Not one scrap of word—you sit here with your hands empty and your mouths shut. Robert Baratheon rides for Winterfell, and none of you can tell me where Lyanna is?! Useless! The lot of you!"
The men of House Stark all looked down, with no answers. They had already searched for the runaway daughter of House Stark. There was no sign of her anywhere. No inns, no towns, no villagers seeing her pass by.
"You!" Lord Stark looked at his eldest son. "You always turned a blind eye to her wildness. If you've any shred of sense, you'll find your sister. Bring me Lyanna—now—or else—"
"Or else what, Father? You'll lock me up, too?" Brandon scoffed at his father, no longer bothered that others heard them. "You forced her hand. You stole her freedom, her joy—riding, archery, the woods, all of it. You crushed her spirit, and now you're angry she broke free? You made her a prisoner, Father. She only did what any bird would do: fly away."
Lord Stark turned red and turned to his other son, Eddard. "Ned, take all the men you need. Find me Lyanna. Any word of her."
Ever so dutiful, Eddard nodded and left.
Brandon scoffed, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.
####
Red Keep,
This is getting frustrating.
Wylis stood before the Queen's bedchamber once again. It was the second day since that night, and she still hadn't come out. The Septa who went inside told him that the Queen would rest for the day.
He wanted to talk to her before leaving for good. He wanted to see if she was alright. But he couldn't just barge into her room. There were too many eyes around him, even if not noticeable.
Still, he hoped to help. He sent Ser Jaime out of the Red Keep that day to meet with Qyburn. Jaime was to deliver a sealed letter and bring back a healing ointment that he and Qyburn had made together.
He promised Jaime a few more spars in return. And thankfully, the young knight delivered.
When the night fell, Wylis once again tapped on the pipe to get a response from her. He wanted to give her the ointment. But the bottle was too big to be sent through the pipe. And giving it to the Septa or the maids was risky.
Pang! Pang!
He waited two hours. When no response came, he once again returned to digging.
That night, he went all out. He crossed the entire Godswood and then went underneath the final wall of the Red Keep. As the castle sat on top of a hill, the place where he came out was a decently rough, short cliff. Above him was the Red Keep's wall, and underneath, some distance away, was the city.
He could easily climb down and vanish into the streets. But that night, he covered the cave opening and returned to his small room. Qyburn would need time to understand his cryptic letter and implement everything.
Tomorrow night. For good.
But before that, he had made up his mind. He was going to see the Queen himself and bid her farewell.
______________________
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